Saturday, 29 January 2011

Two Weeks to Vacances - I'm getting impatient


Had a bit of a funny old week, have I.

The powercut lasted all night, so I was in bed by 11 as I was bored. When I woke up at 6.30, I lit the candle again, and decided to lay down in my oh-so-comfortable bed just chilling out somewhat, seeing as I didn’t have work until half 11. After 15 minutes of laying there, my room suddenly flooded with light. Thinking the candle had fallen over and set fire to my entire life, I flew out of the bed ready to start screaming. Nothing to see here chaps, it was just that the power was back and therefore my light had switched on.

Monday I went to work, where I was informed that my Year Eight dreadfuls are no longer available on Wednesday mornings. Get in! Result! Lay-in Wednesdays and no more flying children! But no. “Instead you can take them on Friday, at…… 4 o clock.” 

WHAT?

So in saving myself the hours walking for a 55 minute lesson on a Wednesday, I have now inherited an extra three hours at work on my Friday. This interferes with my life. I have to go and ask the headteacher if I can change that hour for the 11th of Feb as it’s going to risk me missing my train home for les vacances. Either way, I will not be doing it.

Wednesday I went to Reims, well that was a bit rubbish. Apparently it’s where Champagne lives, but it was all so expensive and to be honest I can buy some in Carrefour. How capitalist and uncultured of me. Oh!
Work has consisted mostly of banter all week, just being mean to kids who are mean back, then everyone ends up laughing. The best way to do this is to take a really annoying kid, and when he makes a statement in English that isn’t exactly correct, translate it back into French exactly as he said it in English, and watch the kids do the rest of the ridicule. 

The best example of this was with a 3√®me  class, who were working on writing angry letters in order to express themselves clearly in English. I read some examples from the previous class, one of which read; “to the people who swear when its not needed, it’s pathetic! Your such a looser! I have two words for you: FUCK OFF!”

Lol?

Anyway. These two kids decided to write an angry letter on the subject of a cheating girlfriend, and the writer had found out by seeing a video on the internet of the event. Harsh times. In his anger, the kid was going to smash his girlfriends car up. However, what he actually wrote was, “I fuck your car!” 

I took great delight in asking him if he really did want to stick his dick in his girlfriends car, to which that entire section of the room rolled around in hysterics for a good five minutes.

Today, I caused a bit of a situation. Year Ten were set the task to ask me questions. But questions with a bit of a meatier response than “what is your favourite hobby” or “can you speak French”, more like “what is happiness to you?” and “what are your best and worst qualities?”

One such question was “Who is your hero? But not a fiction one, it has to be real”.

So I told them.

The class, who were already pretty calm, sunk into silence, and the teacher couldn’t even hide her awkward face. But they asked a question and got an honest answer, didn’t they? Fuck Neil Armstrong, fuck Gandhi, fuck all those famous people, they haven’t affected my life. One person has.

For those of you who don’t know, my hero is Luke. He was my friend from school. He had cystic fibrosis amongst other things and he wasn’t at school very much, but when he was he was the happiest kid there, always smiling, there wasn’t a single kid who didn’t like him. Not once did he moan about his illnesses or the pain he was in, in fact I don’t think I ever heard him moaning about anything. But when we were in Year 9, he died. It was one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever gone through and I still miss him terribly, even if I didn’t see him that much. I know I’m not the only person who feels like this, the boy was just amazing.

Now I’m sitting in the staff room waiting for the headteacher to be free so that I can go and ask her if I can change my timetable on the week of the 11th – although I’m well prepared to lose an hour’s wages if it means I don’t have to miss out on the train that cost me a hell of a lot more than that. I’ve got English Club in an hour, then after that, two more hours of glorious nothing. Then to go see my Year Eight kids, who probably aren’t going to turn up as they’re meant to finish at four on Fridays. Would you be prepared to stay behind on a Friday night to do extra of a subject that you don’t like? I’ve only got one kid who works, and he’s the American kid. This class was such a bad idea.

Still, weekend with some cool people, it’s Kyle’s birthday so we’re going out to practise our liver-battering skills. I miss my lady. A lot.

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